


Call It Professional Courtesy

by misbegotten



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 08:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: 007 is Q's favourite. Most of the time.





	Call It Professional Courtesy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/gifts).



Q does not have favourites. Except that he does. It must be why he tolerates 007's presence in Q Branch. 

Bond is doing effortlessly casual, which is to say he appears to be toying with a standard issue watch that Q has been modifying, but he's really taking in all of the exit points, possible weapons, and opportunities to shag someone to get what he wants.

"007, kindly refrain from burning a hole through the ceiling," Q says mildly. He's perturbed by the work before him. It was meant to be a pleasant distraction from more pressing issues -- because there are always more pressing issues at his doorstep -- but it's become a matter of pride now.

Bond drops the watch. But his eyes settle on Q thoughtfully.

Q attempts not to fidget. "I have work to do," he states to the world at large and Bond's eyes in particular.

"I'm not stopping you." Bond's eyes are twinkling at him. Twinkling! This is patently unfair.

"You are distracting."

At this, Bond looks smug. And twinkly.

"Leave," Q orders him.

"I'll stay," Bond says placidly.

Q busies himself with the watch. The laser mechanism is not functioning properly. Such a simple thing, and he can't get it quite right.

"That could take someone's wrist off," Bond observes helpfully.

"I know," Q says. He's cross with himself. And cross with 007. Why is 007 his favourite?

"Actually," Bond says, plucking the watch from Q's workbench, "I have just the use for it."

"Someone you want to maim, perhaps?"

Bond hums in what must be agreement. 

Q snatches the watch back from him. "I can't allow shoddy equipment to leave the lab." Q does have his professional reputation to consider. And if 007 lost his hand while trying to set his universal alarm clock, surely M would dock Q's pay. At least. "Go away," he says plaintively.

"What's your real name, Q?" Bond has abruptly changed subjects on him. He does that, always testing boundaries. 

"Quartermaster," Q answers. 

"I'll find out."

"Yes," Q suggests brightly. "Find out someplace not here." The laser project may need to be scrapped, he thinks with resignation.

"Dinner?" Bond suggests.

"Yes," he repeats. Q makes a shooing motion with his hands. "Go have dinner."

Bond lounges against Q's workbench. "No, I meant us. Having dinner. Someplace not here."

Q blinks at him. "What do you want from me?" he asks. With 007, there are no free lunches. Or dinners.

Bond's lips quirk pleasantly. "The pleasure of your company, Q."

Q arches an eyebrow.

"You need a break," Bond suggests. In that suggestive way that Bond does. He's definitely flirting recreationally. Q is never sure how he feels about being on the receiving end of 007's most passionate hobby.

"You're not going to pull," Q says flatly.

Bond raises his hands in mock surrender. "It hadn't crossed my mind."

Q tosses the watch down. "Fine. Dinner. You're paying."

"Of course," Bond says amenably. 

*

Bond is not a man of his word. But neither, apparently, is Q.

"Why do I put up with you?" Q asks as he basks in the afterglow. If this is Bond flirting recreationally, Q would hate to be on the receiving end of Bond on assignment. It might just kill him.

"Because I'm very good at what I do?" Bond suggests. 

"It's because you're easy," Q states. He intends to follow this pronouncement with a list of the ways in which Bond is perhaps not so difficult to be around after all, but...

"You're one to talk," Bond retorts. But he gentles the words with a kiss to Q's messy hair. He has an arm slung around Q, and draws Q more closely to him. "Get some sleep. You work too hard." 

This is his gift to Q then: shagging not to get something, but to give. Respite, relaxation, contentment.

Q does not have favourites. Except that he does. 

But every once in a while, he thinks that 007 has favourites too.


End file.
